Instinct
by ChasingCarsandCountingStars
Summary: It was pure instinct. Raw adrenaline. Self defense. What human being wouldn't go to extreme lengths to protect someone they love? See inside for full summary, it was really long so I couldn't put it in here;)
1. Chapter 1

**Hey Hey Heyyy:) **

**So I've had this idea for a story in my head for a while, I just never acted on it. Not until now ;)**

**Okay, so this fanfic is going to be set in the future, but unlike the Hunger Games, Capitol crazed people do not send their children into a bloodbath for their entertainment. Although, it is kind of similar.**

**After World War Three, the world's population decreased dramatically. Even though it **_**did **_**open up more available jobs, the government still did not receive enough tax income, because most people were still in mourning, or recovering from the aftereffects of shock.**

**So the government set up a new rule; every resident, no matter if you were young or old, healthy or wounded, sick or dying, over the age of twenty, were rounded up and sent of to a camp in Europe, called Neurose. This camp provided shelter for these people, however, they were forced to work assigned jobs for the government, so that the world may be able to rely on the products that they produced. You worked until you died.**

**Those who were under twenty one, were free to live as they wish, but there was a catch.**

**The government did not supply those who had to fend for themselves, who had to live on their own.**

**Now, you very well know that you can't run a business, make a living, when the people who own the companies were **_**children.**_

**So they resulted to other means of surviving. **

**They began to kill.**

**The stronger, braver, quicker, stealthier and more prepared groups triumphed. The weaker fell short. They were robbed of their supplies, swept from their shelters, and forced to lay low, so has not to be detected.**

**One particular group, nicknamed the Callers, which consisted of three girls and two guys; Glimmer, Foxface, Clove, Thresh, and Marvel, were a very high ranked group. They overtook a small town on the outskirts of Kemmerer, Wyoming.**

**Katniss Everdeen took shelter in a storm cellar after her brother, Phillip, who was two years younger than herself, died. She lives underground with her little sister, Prim, and her neighbor's only daughter, Rue. Together, they fight for survival.**

**Okay, so I guess I should better stop rambling, and get on with the story xD oh yeah, Peeta **_**and **_**Gale will turn up later in the story, don't worry.**

**Disclaimer: Could anyone **_**really **_**mistake **_**my **_**writing for **_**Suzanne Collins.**_** Because trust me, that would be a **_**huge **_**honor. But naw, her writing is infinity times infinity times **_**infinity**_** better than mine! xD **__

**So guys, purdy pwease, R&R!:)**

Tense, and watchful, Katniss made her way from the mouth of storm cellar to the abandoned antique shop across the street.

It seemed that the Earth had been draped over with a dark blanket, shading the world from any light at all. The dark clouds resisted any penetration from the sun, and the wind was steadily picking up speed. The sky portrayed fake night. In reality, it was only a little past noon.

Katniss pulled her faded, baby blue scarf a little tighter around her neck. She heard car brakes squealing from the next street over, and self consciously dipped her head, bending her knees, as if preparing herself to take cover at any moment.

She kept moving though, and slid open the glass door of the shop.

"Cato?" her hoarse voice cut through the air like a shrill bell releasing children from school; hard and prominent, but it oddly gave a sense of relief.

A boy with mussed blonde hair appeared from the back room. He was heavy set, and had broad shoulders. Not fat, but not skinny either.

Katniss picked her way across the floor, careful not to trip over the many knick knacks that lay strewn across the floor, as if a mini tornado came through the room and swept away these items from their regular spots, and deposited them in foreign places.

Katniss picked herself up and sat on top of the black and white checkered countertop. "I got your stuff," she said sternly, yet still being aware that she had to keep her voice level to a minimum.

Cato raised a slender eyebrow.

Katniss sighed, and set down two boxes on the countertop. They were identical, with tiny, black writing on all sides. Cato didn't have to read it to know what is was.

"Eight hundred twenty bullets each, specialty ammo. Found them in the back on a neighbor's master bedroom closet."

Cato reached forward, itching to get his hands on something that he could use to defend himself with. Katniss, with quick reflexes he had never seen before, snatched the boxes, and pulled them to her side.

"I held up my end of the bargain, now where are my things?"

Cato chuckled to himself, "getting a little ahead of ourselves, aren't we?"

Katniss looked at him with dead serious eyes, "no, just aware of my acquaintances."

Cato grinned, and reached behind the counter Katniss was perched on. He withdrew two cans of mandarin oranges, three loaves of bread that were four days past the expiration date, and a bottle with five individual pain killer pills inside.

"Thanks," Katniss said, sliding the boxes of ammo over to Cato.

"No problem," he replied.

She began searching her clothing, trying to locate a place to hide all of her necessities. If someone caught her wandering the streets with the goods in plain sight, especially since she was alone, they would surely strip her of her belongings, almost guaranteeing to beat her around while in the process.

Once she thought that it was fit to leave, she turned around to face Cato.

"Bye," she murmured, as she slipped out the door.

As she turned on her heel, heading back to the storm cellar, she was pretty sure she saw Cato mouth _bye _back.

She heaved on the handle of the door to the storm cellar, putting all of her weight into it. Finally, with a groan, it flew open. She dangled her legs over the edge a moment, before letting go. Even though she had done it so many times before, the two seconds of freefall always made her heart hiccup.

At the bottom, she heard Prim and Rue cry out in unison, "Katniss!" as they took in the sight of Katniss holding up the food she had retrieved that day.

**Okay, so I'm really sorry about the shortness of it, I wrote this on my phone, but whenever I tried to copy it from Notes to Documents, it deleted COMPLETELY! So I had to rewrite EVERYTHING! But on the bright side, I think it turned out better than the original copy! Please, if you liked, or have some criticism for me, or any ideas to help my writing, please review!:)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey gurls and guys:)**

**Here's chappie #2!** **Please bear with me, I'm trying to improve my writing. I'm twelve, thirteen September 17, and I just really want to be a promising author one day:)**

**Plz R&R, it means a whole lot to me:) And guys, I **_**welcome **_**critiquing! I mean, how are you supposed to get**_** better **_**if you do not receive advice! Thanx:)**

**Oh yeah, and one more thing… Gale is going to have an older brother in this fic, named Marc. EVERYONE IN THIS STORY IS SUZANNE COLLINS! Well, except for Phillip and Marc, and a few others that ya'll will meet later on ;)**

Maybe it was the ridiculously cold air that had hung over this town like a heavy blanket for _so long_, or maybe the musty smell of that attic had seeped into his head and messed up his brain. But, truthfully, he knew what it really was that persuaded him to do this…

_Desperation._

Creeping past his older brother's bedroom, he slipped into the kitchen. He carefully slid open the drawer that contained all of the household knives, and set them soundlessly on the countertop. He then picked around through the pantry, setting three cans of beans, a container of diced onion, and a sack with five turnips beside the knives. Pausing, he peered over his shoulder, then turned back to what he was going to be bringing with him. He packed his things down into a small yellow plastic bag he had found in a trash can yesterday on the street corner. Then he turned around, and with grace you just had to be born with, stepped out into the cold night air.

It was pitch black. Anyone could have walked up and sank a knife into his back, and he never would have noticed until it was too late. But he didn't care, he just wanted to get away from there. I mean, getting a bullet through the head would be a better death than slowing starving to death, right?

He walked along the beaten road, the road that had been slowly weathered down by children's shoes. Through the darkness, you couldn't even see the faded yellow lines that marked the way for non existent cars.

_On the bright side_, he though to himself, _at least my dark hair and skin will help conceal me._

It was true. His hair, skin, and attire blended in well with his surrounding. His camouflage was promising.

A large wooden storm cellar came into his view. He wandered up to it, questioning his sensibility about taking shelter here. It was quite the convenient place; close to other deserted building, in case of emergency. It was far away from the house, and secluded enough to where it would be difficult to find.

He hefted the door open gracefully, dangling his legs over the edge. Without hesitating, he threw himself into the hole.

Not until he had planted his feet at the bottom that it dawned on him that someone might have already taken up residence here. And they might not appreciate someone "dropping" in on their little hideout. Literally.

_Oh well_, he thought to himself, _guess I'll find out._

He stepped farther into the room. It was dusty, but uncluttered.

He suddenly felt a sharp nip on the back of his neck, making him turn around.

A girl who had a long, dark side braid fixed on her head stood in front of him, clutching a knife in her hand. His eyes expanded at the length of it. The blade itself must have been slightly larger than the length of a grown man's forearm.

"Up there," her eyes gestured toward the ceiling, directing him above ground, "now."

**Oh. My. Gawd.**

**I realize now how **_**short **_**that was!**

**Ya'll, I'm sorry, I had to update my other fanfic today, too.**

**But ya'll, please tell me what ya'll think:) byeeee:) oh, and if ya'll don't mind, the ones who haven't read my other story, Brushing Fingertips, if ya'll want, ya'll can read that! It's an HP fic (Hermione/Draco) *wink *wink ;) I promise though that the next one will be a LOT longer!:)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey peeps:):)**

**I wanted to say I've been struck with a flash of brilliance today... I came up with the username _ChasingCarsandCountingStars_ based on two of my favorite songs!**

**Okay, so I've tried to make this chappie longer... Hope it comes out right:)**

**Please, R&R!:)**

The air rank of hard boiled egg and wood chips. He wrinkled his nose in disgust as he stepped into the night. He plugged his nose dramatically, and breathed in a gulp of air. But it turns out, you could taste it, too.

The stoplights that hung precariously over the streets, the ones that had long since glowed red, orange, or green, swung and creaked in the harsh wind. The wind had picked up excessively since that morning.

He turned to look at the girl beside him. She was pretty, he supposed. Dark brown hair that would have surely reached her waist when wetted, and sharp grey eyes that seemed to be aware of everything. Every move you made, every look you gave, every emotion you felt, every _breath_ you took.

But she looked utterly tired. Dark half moons were imprinted deeply under her long eyelashes, and her shoulders curved forward slightly, not in defeat or depression... but in sheer exhaustion.

She heaved herself from the opening of the cellar. Rising to her feet, she leveled them evenly with her shoulders. She desired to feel in control.

The boy looked at her warily, eyeing her weapon with suspicion.

The girl, with a sigh, set the blade down in the grass next to her.

_But not too far away_, the boy noticed,_ so that she'd be ready to slit my throat if need be._

"What were you doing in _my_ cellar?" she probed.

"I needed a residing place," he answered confidingly, "didn't know someone had already take up residence."

She quirked an eyebrow, "what's you name?"

"Gale," he said simply.

She stood there for a moment.

"Well," Gale's voice broke through the darkness, "what's yours?"

She paused for a moment, "none of your business."

"It's actually quite rude not to be willing to supply someone with information, when you've asked the question already yourself. And this person complied full heartedly."

She sent a sharp glare in his direction, before mumbling something that sounded remarkably like "Catnip."

"_Catnip_?" he exclaimed in amusement, "now I've heard some odd names in my short life, but I've _never_-

"It's Katniss." She ground out, clearly exasperated. He saw her hand twitch, and thought quickly to himself, that he'd best stay on her good side; she did have a weapon and all.

_Wait_, he registered. _I have five knives in the bag. Stupid_, he mentally face palmed himself.

He clutched the bag harder in his hand. He looked at Katniss, who was standing in front of him. He stood up straighter, knowing now that he was more prepared for an attack.

"Well," Katniss shifted her weight from one foot to the other, "you can't stay here."

The words ran unprocessed through his head, "but I have no where else to go."

He looked up to see Katniss staring off into an invisible, distant place. She must have sensed his watchful gaze, because she snapped back to attention immediately, looking at Gale with eyes that radiated defiance.

"What am I supposed to do though?" she said, voice strained from the concentration of being patient, "I have people of my own to take care of... I can't put their life on the line, just to house someone who I've only just met. I barely know you."

She swallowed audibly, her tone layered thick with skepticism, "you have a knife in there, don't you?"

He followed her line of gaze to the yellow bag he was gripping in his hand. He was suddenly struck with an idea.

He took his time drawing out the items in his bag, but making sure his actions weren't too slow, so that he wouldn't get on her nerves. He tossed the food items and containers on the ground at Katniss's feet, then stuck the knives, one by one, into the ground, in a perfect row.

"Look," he murmured, "I know, trust me, I _know_, first hand how it feels to feel intruded. And being skeptical of the trespasser. But please, I need somewhere to stay. Somewhere to hide, just for a little while. I have resources with me... and I can get more. Without anyone being aware of your hiding place. Please, Katniss, please let me stay here," he hadn't noticed he had let go of the bag during his speech, until now, due to the rather fluid gestures he was performing.

Katniss opened her mouth, ready to argue, when Gale cut her off.

"I have something to offer."

This made her draw back. She looked at him with suspicious eyes, wary of his reasonings, but still holding herself up, refusing to show fear.

"And what would that be?" she whispered.

"My story."

The very air around them seemed to suck in a quick breath. Nothing moved, nothing breathed.

"Why should I trust you?"

"Because," he replied, as if that explained everything.

"Because what?" she quipped.

"I'm here," he said simply. "I can provide supplies; keep you stocked up. I know how to lay low. I've done it for years. I can offer you a sense of peace. But in return, you can let me stay here in your _retreat_."

He could just make out a small smile that creeped along her face, but it quickly vanished.

"It's me, my sister Prim, and Rue. Do you honestly think you can contribute enough to carry your own weight, much less help me with the girls?"

"I'll try."

She sighed, and swept a hand across her forehead. Her expression resembled someone's who would be trapped against a brick wall, with no where else to go.

Reluctantly, she murmured, "fine."

His eyes lit up and he silently thanked God for his luck.

"Thank you," he let out a breath he hadn't noticed he had been holding, "thank you, a whole lot."

"You're welcome," she said, grudgingly.

"You first," she gestured toward the perforation of the cellar.

He slipped through the hole, relieved at having a sense of a more anchored life.

He looked behind him, and discerned that Katniss hadn't followed him down. Just as the thought had flashed across his mind, Katniss dropped from the ceiling, landing on her feet. It was obvious she had done this several times.

She raised the bag up level to her face, "well, we couldn't just leave these out there, could we?" She gazed at him with a soft smile.

She placed the bag gently on a rickety wooden table that had to be propped up against the wall, because it was missing one of its legs.

She turned back to Gale, and frowned. A shadow crossed over her face before she walked over to her bed, and stripped it of its assets, except for a single, lacy sheet.

Or so he thought it was lace. Actually, the sheet had been overplayed with holes and tears running vertical, like someone had taken a knife and cut gentle slits through the sheet.

She made a pallet of blankets on the floor, next to the bed. When the girls woke up, she didn't want them to be in a bleary state when they acknowledged a strange man on the floor of their home.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, sounding slightly embarrassed at the lack of refinements, "we don't have much to offer."

"It's perfect," he grinned at her genuinely. She shook her head slightly, and sank into her bed. The springs groaned terribly when she sat down.

He made his way over to the area where he would be sleeping. He lowered his head to the ground mindlessly, attention and concentration focused on how he would fulfill his promise of obtaining enough resources to supply three people, plus himself. His head collided with a concrete floor. That's when he noticed, he didn't have a pillow.

He heard a soft noise above him, and glanced up. Katniss was leaning precariously over the side of her bed, snickering behind her hand.

"I was going to give you a pillow."

He laughed quietly at himself, and took the pillow Katniss was holding out to him. He fixed the pillow behind his head, and shuffled his body to allow a more comfortable position.

"How am I going to tell the girls about this?"

He heard Katniss's voice drift down from her raised platform. She sounded so desperate, but he could here how contracted her voice sounded from trying to hold in her worrying.

"They'll get over it," he heard his voice bounce off the spacious room, and cringed at the fake playfulness in his voice, that was so see through-able.

He heard her pause, then say quietly, "I sincerely hope you're right."

He turned over in his back, and placed his hands behind his head. He peered up at the concrete ceiling, pondering his choices, and his luck, when it came to life.

He definitely wasn't a four leaf clover, by no means.

He knew his eyes were drooping, but he weirdly couldn't go to sleep. The quiet in the room prevented any movements or peace to take place.

He shut his eyes tight, focusing on the muffled sounds of the city. Unfortunately, there weren't any.

And there hadn't been for a while.

He knew darkness was slowly overtaking him, sleep calling his name soothingly. Just as he felt the oblivion of sleep overtake him, he heard a voice cut through the chilly air.

"You really have a hard head, you know that?"

He faded to a blank sleep with a smile plastered on his face.

**Okay, hope y'all like it! Please review! Byeeee:)**


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